tactual
by christina jean
Summary: She gets tactile when she drinks.


**CSI:NY, Danny/Lindsay, one-shot, complete. **

**  
I had this story pop into my head and it wouldn't leave until I wrote it. I had intended to make it longer, but it just stopped itself and I kinda like it this way. This has not passed through any beta fingers. **

**I own nothing in this story, I am just taking them out for a gentle spin.**

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**tac·tile** (tktl, -tl)  
_adj._

1- Perceptible to the sense of touch; tangible.  
2- Used for feeling.  
3- Of, relating to, or proceeding from the sense of touch; tactual.

The first time was an accident. Like any good CSI, she took the resulting facts, drew her conclusion and acted upon it.

The first time it happened it could have been anyone perched at the bar he told himself. Not so for the following times.

He slid into the only half open space, which luckily enough was right next to her. So close he was forced to practically press up against her side. He looked around the bar nodding to friends, smiling at acquaintances, shifting, getting a little closer to order a drink.

She felt him at her side before she saw him. She swears the air shimmers when he is there, the molecules rearranging themselves to caress his body. He slides into the half space next to her, not sitting because there isn't a seat available. Instead he invades her space and stands facing her, one arm on the bar, the other hanging casually at his side. As he orders his beer she takes the moment to shift just a little closer and bathe in his clean, spicy scent. She always thought it fascinating that such a city boy would smell so much like the outdoors.

She glances up to see him look down at her, the smile dawning on his face draws a matching one from her.

"Montanta." The nickname slides across his lips followed by the tip of his tongue.

"Messer." She says pertly back to him, smiling the whole time.

He glances past her and says his hellos to the rest of the lab gathered at the bar. It was the one night a month that they all got together to relax and bond as a team. Usually by the end of the night the liquor had done it's work and they all stumbled out in love with each other and the world.

He had come to look forward to these outings more and more. Being the crack CSI he was he had noticed that she got _tactile_ as the night wore on. It began with a tap on the arm, the grabbing of a hand to get his attention, the occasional slap upside the head. It steadily increased until she was touching him continuously, keeping a hand on his arm, her leg against his, leaning a shoulder against him. More often then not when they all staggered from the bar they staggered together, giggling and grinning.

Tonight was no exception. The hand on his arm in greeting, the grazing of fingers when she swiped his beer for a drink, the gentle knocking of her knee as she swung it off the bar stool.

Then it happened.

Danny felt a shove against his back as someone jostled for space at the bar. His hand flew forward and landed on her waist to steady himself. His fingers grabbing on to the slim half inch of bare skin right above her jeans.

The air seemed trapped in her lungs all of a sudden, refusing to either go or stay. He was suddenly intimately against her and his fingers were grabbing her hip. For a moment she thought it was her vision that was teetering from the rush of blood to her skin, but as he glanced down at her she realized it was him.

They both froze, caught en flagrante delecto. Caught in that moment where the pleasure is so intense it threatens to become pain. Almost instinctively his fingers grasped harder curling around her hip, making her cold and hot all at once. She realized she still wasn't breathing, she was just feelin. Through the haze in the air they stared intently at each other, eyes wide with hope, lust and fear.

She could feel everything. The rotation of the earth, the peanut dimples under her hand, the callous on his index finger. He could feel the tiny hairs on her waist as the stood up, the dampness of the bar under his elbow, his heart stop.

And suddenly Flack was there with arms around both of them, planting a sloppy kiss on Danny's cheek. She smiled and laughed, accusing him of finding Danny prettier then her. God knows she did. This lead to a long and involved completely incoherent story about the time Flack turned a lesbian straight. By the time he was done proving his manhood the whole gang was gathered around kidding and laughing.

There was no more touching each other that night. Only relived and imagined touching after they went home separately.

She made a decision a month later. She deliberately choose a halter top that left her shoulders bare and rode up on her waist. It was covered with a sweater during the day but she abandoned it in her locker that night. It was not an accident this time that she arrived early and sat at the end of the bar. Quickly she downed her first two drinks.

She didn't want to wait until half the night had gone by before she had enough courage to start touching him.

_Fin_


End file.
